


Forsaken

by Raysine



Series: Songs of Suffering [3]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Child Death, Creep William Afton | Dave Miller, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of Pregnancy, Mind Manipulation, Miscarriage, Multi, Not Beta Read, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Triggers, William Afton | Dave Miller being a Jerk, Yikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raysine/pseuds/Raysine
Summary: a collection of oneshots within the universe of SOS, not necessarily in order.mostly things i left out and shouldn't have
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Phone Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Original Female Character(s), Purple Guy (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Original Female Character(s), Reluctant Follower (Five Nights at Freddy's) & Original Character(s), William Afton | Dave Miller & Original Character(s)
Series: Songs of Suffering [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938346
Kudos: 6





	Forsaken

**Author's Note:**

> tw: mentions of abuse, rape, and utter mind fucking 
> 
> idk whats up with the terrible formatting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of suicide, thoughts of suicide, mentions of abuse, rape, and utter mind fucking
> 
> idk whats up with the terrible formatting

William didn't tell her what he did during the day.

He worked someplace in town, an hour away from their house, but he didn't let her know much else. She didn't know what he did or how much money he made, just that he made enough for their bills and essentials.

Gemma didn't concern herself with the finances. She was never great with math, anyway. William took care of that, and so as long as she didn't find a foreclosure letter on their doorstep, it wasn't an issue.

William took care of everything, aside from house chores. He took care of her. 

He loved her, and she loved him. 

Sometimes, thoughts of leaving--escaping--or killing herself crossed her mind. They usually came along when her anxiety spiked, like when she forgot to turn the dryer on, forgot to iron his shirts, or didn't pick up the living room just the way he liked it. She really tried to make sure she did everything just how he liked it, and that it was done before he got home in the evening.

It was just the loneliness getting to her, though. After all, it wasn't like he ever hit her. He got angry and yelled sometimes. He could be scary when he got that upset, but he never hit her. 

It was another Friday evening in the Afton household. But not just any normal Friday evening; once again, it was Gemma's birthday. At least, she thought it was, that was what William told her. As of today, she was twenty-one.

It felt like her eighteenth wasn't that long ago. It felt like it had only been a week ago, at the least, and she didn't even remember celebrating her nineteenth... or her twentieth.

But, time passed quickly.

Time passed quickly, and she never kept track of the days. She wasn't allowed to watch TV without him, or to even have a calendar in the house. William kept track of time for her, and she was fine with that.

Nevertheless, William obviously had something planned for her. He seemed plenty excited that morning--excited enough to wake her up like a child on Christmas. Usually, she was the one to wake him up in the mornings.

He even let her have a small cupcake for breakfast. She wasn't allowed many sweets so it was a pleasant surprise, especially as he fed it to her and accidentally smeared pink icing all over her mouth and her nose. They laughed and shared a sweet, sugary kiss before he went on his way to work; Gemma couldn't imagine a more perfect morning. 

_~~It should have been with Scott.~~ _ ~~~~

William wanted to take her out after work; he told her not to worry about making dinner that evening--typically the last chore of the day. Gemma was always done with dinner just as William got home, around 6:30 pm every evening.

Today--it was 7 pm. William hasn't come home yet.

It was concerning. William was always home on time! He worked overtime sometimes, but he always let her know beforehand and let her know when he would be home. 

No, there wasn't anything to worry about. Maybe he stopped at the store on his way. Maybe his car broke down, or...

What if he was cheating on her?

The thought made her stomach twist up in knots, and she felt nauseous. He wouldn't do something like that to her, especially not on her birthday.

William was a good man. A good husband.

Gemma stood in the bathroom adjacent to their bedroom. Her hands gripped the white marble countertop as she looked down into the sink.

She couldn't even bring herself to look in the mirror.

She had gotten dressed over an hour ago. She did her hair and even a little makeup, and dressed to impress in the best clothes she could find, and William was late.

The thought he could have been cheating on her... It made every last bit of confidence she had dissipate into nothing, replaced with utter self-loathing.

She had gained a bit of weight since she was eighteen. Her stomach had gotten a little bigger. She wondered if William noticed...

Of course he noticed, how could he not? Although it hasn't been long, she used to be young and attractive, at least. She was still young, but she was bigger. Not by much, but bigger. It was like she gained baby fat without the baby. She didn't even know if she could have a baby.

And she looked tired all the time. Really, she didn't have a right to be. William worked all day. What did she do besides eat, sleep, and do house chores? 

She was a failure of a wife, wasn't she? She couldn't even have a baby, the one thing William wanted most.

What if William was embarrassed by her?

She would be, too.

Her heart squeezed painfully, and she let out a pitiful whine as she attempted to hold back the tears. 

Maybe she should just go back to the bedroom and lie down until William got home.

She could barely collect herself as she cleaned the makeup from her face. Her hair, ironed into curls just for the evening, she put up into a ponytail, and put on one of William's t-shirts. 

It smelled like him. Like stale cigarettes.

She didn't like the smell of cigarettes. He didn't use to smoke too much, but ever since they eloped, his smoking habits have become increasingly more frequent.

Regardless, it smelled nice coming from him, oddly enough. 

"Gemma, Love?" She heard his voice call from the living room; she hesitated. "It's awful dark in here. Are you alright?"

She couldn't even bring herself to be excited. She was glad he finally made it home, but...

She was so upset. She didn't want to celebrate her birthday anymore.

If she did, would this memory eventually fade into nothing by next year, just like the others? What was even the point?

She wiped away the last of her tears and took a deep breath to steady herself.

She couldn't hide away in that bathroom forever, as much as she wanted to.

Gemma came out of the bathroom just as William ascended the staircase; William was an observant man and prided himself in the fact he picked up her body language quickly--he didn't miss the way her eyes were downcast and her cheeks a little more rosy than normal, or the way her hands fisted the bottom of his shirt that hung low on her thighs.

She looked distressed; broken, even. He hasn't seen her look this way in a long time.

"What's the matter, Love? I thought you would be ready by the time I got back."

"I... I don't want to go out anymore."

"But it's your special day. We should be celebrating today."

She didn't answer at first, choking back tears.

"It--it's nothing," Gemma croaked, "I just..." She broke her own heart thinking about him cheating on her. Of course he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't. "I just look terrible in everything I try on... I hate the way I look in everything and I don't want to embarrass you--"

It was only a half-truth, but she couldn't stand there and tell him she upset herself because she thought about him cheating on her for all of two seconds. 

"Oh dear," he uttered. "Gemma, Love. Look at me," he spoke gently, urging her to first lift her eyes to look at him. "That's a good girl." He lifted her chin with a finger, making her tilt her head to look at him better.

She didn't know why those words made her feel so... Disgusting.

"I could never be embarrassed by you. You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me." His thumb brushed against her, wiping a stray tear that fell down her cheek. "And the most extraordinary wife." 

Even his reassurance did little to help.

Gemma pulled her hand up to het chest and twisted the ring on her finger. "I just feel like I'm failing you." 

"You aren't failing me--" 

"I can't even have a child," Gemma snapped, "you...you keep telling me we'll get there, eventually, but.... It's been three years. I don't even know how many times we've tried."

She didn't know if she even wanted to have a baby.

William hummed. "That's not true, Love. We'll have a baby, we just have to be persistent is all. And who better at being persistent than I?" 

And if William was good at anything, it was persistence.

"I guess."

"That's it. Just trust in me." He brushed her hair out of her face, tucking her hair behind her ears. "We'll get there eventually. You'll be a wonderful mother."

Gemma closed her eyes and she sighed, reveling in the way he held her. 

He was always so gentle with her. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"Quite alright, Love. Now, come downstairs. I got something for you I think might help."

William's touch was tender; careful, as if she would shatter like glass from a touch of a finger. He took her hand and led her down the stairs into the living room, and by the couch was a large gift bag, stuffed and packed with tissue paper. Sitting on top of the gift bag was a bouquet of red roses.

She hated roses, but he got them for her every time.

And every time, he would bring home red roses. 

He never did ask her what her favorite flower was.

"F-for me?" Gemma asked.

"Of course. It's your birthday."

He didn't have to get her anything. In fact, she preferred he didn't. Gemma never was one for material things, she just wanted to spend time with him.

But also... The money.

Gemma sat on the living room couch and William laid the bag onto her lap. 

_Gemma hesitantly grabbed the top of the gift bag; their legs touched when he sat next to her, and she could feel his arm drape across the back of her chair._

**_Please stop_ ** _, she wanted to say. She didn’t want to open the bag, but she felt obligated to with him watching her, unwavering. She wanted to throw the gift bag back in his face and tell him to leave her alone, yet…_

_She didn’t have the strength to do that._

_His eyes were hard to ignore—it felt as if he were burning holes into her. So Gemma gathered every last bit of mental strength she had left; slowly, she tore open the top--_

"You alright, Love?" 

It felt as if she were coming out of a dream, blinking her eyes slowly as she settled back into the present--reality.

That was weird. Why was she suddenly remembering her eighteenth birthday? That day, William gifted her a Fredbear and a Spring Bonnie plush, but she didn't remember any of it... Like that.

She remembered it as one of her best birthdays; why was she suddenly remembering otherwise?

"Uh... Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." 

A pink dress, with short sleeves and a full skirt, likely knee-length, and a pink bow that tied high on the waist--it was minimalistic, but beautiful, but she had to wonder just how much he paid for it.

And at the bottom of the bag, a pair of matching pink heels. 

William, clearly pleased with himself, stood from the couch and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Go on, get dressed. We still have a dinner to catch tonight." 

She knew she wasn't supposed to butt into the finances, but... She couldn't help herself.

"William."

"Yes?"

"How much did you pay for all this?"

He fell silent for a moment, like he was searching for an answer. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters! I thought you couldn't afford this stuff."

"I used my credit card." William shrugged.

"Don't you still owe money on that?"

"I got another one, Love. And I'll get another if I need it."

"William," Gemma sighed, "you can't keep doing this--"

William held up a finger, and Gemma went quiet, snapping her jaw shut at his command.

"I thought I told you not to concern yourself with the finances. Didn't I tell you?"

Gemma squirmed in her seat.

"Answer me." 

As much as Gemma wanted to argue, she couldn’t. Slowly, she nodded her head.

William grinned. "Good girl. Go change. I won't repeat myself again."

She hated it when he praised her like that.

. . .

William didn't take Gemma out to town often, but she knew that the people here knew him quite well by now.

But they had been here quite a few times in the years they’ve lived here, so much that the staff knew them by name and memorized her order; while Gemma played it safe and ordered the same thing every time, William liked to change it up. By this point, he’s probably tried every entree they had to offer.

The downside? It was quite expensive. It wasn’t something William could afford to be blowing money on, but he left no room for arguments. 

She would have much preferred if they stayed home.

Their waitress this time was obviously new--a young, teen girl with skin dark as ebony, and her coily hair done in braids and into a bun at the back of her head; she seemed nervous, shifting on her feet and clearly uncomfortable to be standing before them. 

“We’ll start off with champagne then?” William didn’t make eye contact or so much as look in the direction of their waitress, but Gemma could see the way his nose curled, and he seemed… almost avoidant. 

_“From now on, you won’t be hiding these things from me, will you, Love?”_

_She didn’t answer at first, too afraid to get out as much of a word._

_“Will you?”_

_“No,” She finally answered; William’s tight-pressed frown turned into a smirk._

_“Good girl.”_

“Y-yes sir—” The girl stammered.

“Mr. Afton.”

“Y-yes, Mr. Afton, I’ll, uh… b-be right back with that.”

The waitress scurried away, and the two were left in an uncomfortable silence.

This was supposed to be romantic, wasn’t it? It was her birthday, and yet it felt off.

It felt fake, like they were putting on a show for everyone else rather than spending time together on her birthday.

_You never liked your birthday anyway._

Why wouldn’t she like her birthday? Where were these thoughts even coming from?

_Escape._

_Leave before he hurts you again._

_We want to help you—_

“Oh, there’s the champagne now.”

Gemma didn’t realize she was shaking, or how dry her mouth had gotten, at first; she let out a breath, but couldn’t seem to calm herself no matter what she did to bring herself out of her anxiety-stricken state. She rubbed her legs, feeling the rough texture of the dress beneath her fingers. She felt the coolness of the table and she could make out the different lines and shapes in the wood grain.

“I—”

“Sorry for the wait,” the girl said as she pulled the cork from the bottle; Gemma had never had champagne before, but for some reason she could already taste it—a bitter taste that almost reminded her of a pain pill dissolved in her mouth.

“I don’t… think I want any.”

“Oh—uh, I can take this back for you, then—”

William put up his hand to silence her, and raised the full glass to his lips.

“A little drink wouldn’t hurt, Love—"

— _William tried to reason with her; he leaned against the counter and took a sip from his own glass, as if egging her on to follow his lead. “Just a sip is all you need. Loosen up a little.”_

“N-no, it’s fine!” The waitress tried to ease the tensions, casting a worried glance towards Gemma who shied away from him. She picked at the skin on her fingers with unease.

“She’ll have the champagne.”

Gemma stayed silent, swallowing the lump in her throat, and the waitress finally succumbed. “Oh—okay.”

It felt as if time slowed; Gemma watched the bottle come closer to the glass in front of her, and how the bottle tipped over the edge.

The bottle shook; the waitress was just as anxious as Gemma felt, but who could blame her? This was supposed to be a romantic evening, and it felt like anything but. 

The bottle slipped. Champagne tipped over the edge and soaked her dress.

Gemma shot up from her chair. Suddenly, the entire restaurant was watching.

The waitress yelled choruses of “Oh my God” and “I’m so sorry”, but Gemma truly wasn’t listening—she really didn’t care that much, she just wanted this miserable night to end.

“You—” William seethed, snatching the girl by her wrist as he stood from his chair; she flinched back, as if he were about to strike her across the face.

“I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t—”

“William, it’s fine,” Gemma said gently; William looked at her, his usually dull, blue eyes full of life and rage she had never seen before. It was frightening and shook her; this wasn’t the William she knew and loved.

_He never was._

“I—I just want to go home. Please?”

William looked back at the cowering waitress and then back to Gemma, and he relented. He let go of the girl’s wrist and stepped back. “Alright. Let’s go clean you up—”

“N-No!” Gemma stepped back as William reached for her. She caught the way his eyes narrowed, visibly frustrated, but not pushing the matter. “I-I can do it myself.”

All these intrusive thoughts were putting her on edge. Why was she acting so nervous with him?

He loved her. He would never do anything to hurt her. She didn’t have anything to be afraid of.

Yet, they still worried her.

“I’ll be waiting in the car, then, so be quick,” he muttered, “and I’m not paying for the champagne.”

The waitress visibly flinched as he walked by, and although the tension didn’t leave the dining area even after William left, it seemed everyone around them forgot about it within a few seconds, going back to their previous activities without a care in the world.

“I really am sorry about that,” the girl said, “I-I can help you; it **is** my fault.”

Gemma grimaced, but managed a smile, nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it, but… I’d like that. Thank you.”

The girl seemed to be put at ease.

“I’m sorry about my husband, by the way,” Gemma said; she dabbed the wet towel along the front of her dress. “He’s… quick tempered.”

The waitress wet another towel under the running water. “Uhm… it’s alright, I’m… used to it. Black folk don’t really… we ain’t welcome in small towns like this, you know?”

_Oh_ … Gemma hadn’t considered that, she just thought it was William being… well, William. She felt a little silly really. The inherent racism hadn’t crossed her mind, yet now seemed glaringly obvious.

“I hate to intrude, but,” she continued, “and sorry if this sounds rude—isn’t he a bit old for you?”

“Hm?”

“You said he was your husband, and… you don’t look much older than me. I couldn’t help but notice that you looked… afraid of him.”

Gemma wasn’t sure if she was afraid of William or not.

“How can you tell?”

“I was in an abusive relationship, too… not long ago. My mama kicked me outta the house when he came along. Didn’t really have anywhere else to go. One thing led to another, I suppose.”

William wasn’t abusive, was he? Sure, he got angry sometimes, but…

“I’m… really sorry to hear that.”

_This is why you wanted to become a social worker._

Social work… how could she forget about that?

She had dreams—dreams of living in the city and helping other kids; kids who had bad home lives, just like she had—

What was her home life like again?

“I’m in a relationship with a good man, now. I didn’t get to finish high school, but I’m getting along fine, now. But… seeing you and that man—Mr. Afton—together, it just reminded me of… my last relationship.”

_"I'm going to focus all on you," ~~Scott~~ said between kisses. "I won't ever hurt you."_

Who was that again? There was a name on the tip of her tongue, but…

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

The waitress turned to look at Gemma and she smiled. “It’s Maddi.”

_Maddi…_ “Well, thank you, Maddi.”

“It’s no problem… and…” Maddi hesitated, “if you… ever find yourself stuck, you can come to me, okay? I… I don’t have a phone, but I’ll always be here, anyways.”

_“What did you and ~~Henry~~ talk about? You look… slightly less demolished than earlier.”_

_“Well, when this is all over we’ll move out of Hurricane. We’ll make a new home far away from here. Maybe have a few kids—we’ll be a perfect family.”_

“And if you need a place to stay for a while, Scott and I won’t mind taking you in for a bit.”

Scott. It was the sound of the sun—the light when she was afraid of the dark.

It was the sound of familiarity, and love.

But also, it was the sound of grief.

“W-what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“Oh, it’s Scott! He’s a real nice guy—”

_Scott_. That was it.

It felt like hundreds—thousands of memories came back all at once; it made her head throb—she remembered Scott, the love of her life. She remembered the kids, Kujo, how he bit William’s leg and…

How William raped her. Abused her.

Her baby…

Scott’s death.

He was dead.

How could she have forgotten?

“I-I…” Nausea twisted in her gut; she had to get out.

_Go with her._

_Escape. This is your chance._

“I have to go.”

“Wait—”

Gemma left the restroom in a hurry, passing by people she didn’t know or recognize; people she would never know and people who would never really know her.

Gemma always hated living in small towns, but she hated it more now than ever. In small towns, everyone knew everyone; she hated that feeling, especially after…

After what her father did.

It would have been easier to ask for help, if she were still in Hurricane. Mrs. Horton, Henry, Sarah or Marcus, her boss.

But here? She didn’t know anyone.

She was stuck. Stuck in an endless cycle of lies and deceit. How long has she even been here?

That was why William didn’t want her to watch TV, or to have a calendar in the house, wasn’t it? He was purposefully keeping her hidden, purposefully isolating her—

What was William doing to her?

Gemma didn’t bother to buckle the seatbelt when she got into the car.

She looked haunted, staring out the windshield and leaving herself wondering—what was she going to do now?

William tossed his cigarette butt out of the window and turned to face her. The silence consumed them.

“You took a while in there, Love.” William hand landed on her leg, slowly inching up her thigh and under her dress. It was an innocent touch, not like the way he used to touch her, but it still made her uneasy. She let out a shuddering breath.

“William.”

“Yes, Love?”

It was now or never.

Fuck, this was a mistake.

“What… is all of this?”

William drew back; he seemed taken aback by her question, instead resting his arm on the center console. “What do you mean?”

“What did you do to me?”

“I’ve done a lot of things. You’re going to have to elaborate, Love—”

“Why couldn’t I remember anything?”

William fell into silence. He sat back in the car seat and put his hands up onto the steering wheel.

“You tricked me. I remember now… Everything you tried to keep from me.”

“Is that so…” He sounded distant, staring off into the road ahead of them.

“Tell me,” she pleaded with him, “I—I need to know—”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you everything.” When he started the car, she watched the road ahead, the signs and the trees as they passed by, but then—

He made a wrong turn—no, it wasn’t a wrong turn, he was planning something. He was taking her somewhere, the opposite direction their house was in.

“W-William, where are we going?”

He didn’t answer her, but she wasn’t stupid.

She had a feeling she wasn’t going back.

“You won’t remember any of this soon. I’ll put you back together again, Love.”

“William—” He was frightening her—the distant look in his eye and the flat sound of his voice—

“Your little suicide attempt was really a blessing in disguise… you see, I couldn’t take you to a hospital. I wasn’t going to risk them taking you away from me. So, I had to do it myself…

You were in a state of comatose for quite a while. I had to make a risky choice to kill you. Preserving your body was the hard part, and unfortunately, some vital organs didn’t make it due to the overdose. It took me months—years, even—to reverse what you had done. But in the end, I found I could put you back together over and over again, as many times as I liked.”

Gemma trembled, grasping at her chest for air. She had died—he killed her. “How many times?”

“Now? Three times. And I’ll do it over and over again, as many times as I need to.”

“Is that…” She swallowed thickly, her clammy hands clutching the front of her dress, “So I’m not infertile, am I? You know I’m not because I’ve been pregnant more than once.”

Did he kill them too?

William didn’t even flinch. “Quite the clever one, you are. You’ve been pregnant twice before now.”

“And you—”

“Unfortunately, undoing months—years—of progress also means I have to kill the child, too. You understand, don’t you, Love? After all, children are replaceable.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Perhaps I am. But I’m making progress. Every time I have to go back, the longer you have gone without a breakdown—the longer you have gone without remembering. I can make it so you don’t remember, I just have to be persistent…. patient…

**And who better at being persistent than I**?" 

William stopped the car in front of a lone, dark building—one she didn’t remember. She didn’t think William had ever brought her here before, unless—

“Where… where are we?”

“My shop, Love… this is the place where the magic happens. Unless you don’t believe in magic of course. To each their own.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out a small briefcase.

She had to get out of here.

She didn’t want to die.

She had to find Maddi again. She had to ask for help.

“Alright, now be still, Love. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She couldn’t move even if she wanted to, weighed down to the seat with iron shackles.

“It’s just a little drug. It will put you to sleep for a while, so don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you, unless I’m left with no choice.”

William brushed her hair back and off of her shoulders to show her neck, pale, but with a small, faded bruise from the last time he’s had to do this.

That time, she had fought to her last breath. He had to force it, as much as he didn’t want to hurt her like that; not anymore.

_Fight back. Fight back._

_You have to try._

“That’s right, breathe easy, my dear—”

Gemma shoved his hand from her neck and made for the car door—locked.

“So, you want to try and fight me again, do you? That’s quite alright.”

Gemma filled with the lock on the door of his Cadillac, but it just wouldn’t budge—

William fisted her hair and pulled back; she felt something sharp press into the side of her throat, and she gasped in pain as it punctured her skin, all in one fluid motion.

He laid her against him as her body all but collapsed, pulling her into his lap in the middle of a dark, empty parking lot. She felt nauseous, drowsy, foggy—William pet her hair, cooing sweet nothings into her ear as the world faded again—

How many more times would she be through this?

Why was she too weak to fight back?

“W-Will—”

“Shhh.”

“I—I don—”

“Sleep, Love… You’ll be with me again soon.”

Sleep called for her, and the sound of his voice was strangely soothing.

She couldn’t sleep, not yet… she—

She had too…

“Happy birthday, my dear. I’m sorry it had to be this way. I love you.”


End file.
